If my heart flutters, if
my heart grows
too big to fit
its container on
the container ship,
how will I convey it
to you? Dulled coworkers
drink corporate fizz
hauled from this or that
port of bright days.
Air traffic control says
I’m supposed to share
my shell they keep stealing,
what they call understanding.
If I peak out from under the sand
on speech’s beach,
they would try to crush me
with understanding. Federal
regulations prohibit scampering
expressively across the runway,
the tower, the cockpit, the clouds.
The shadow plane
points perilously
in the direction of
human love.
From up here
it looks harmless enough.
Matt Broaddus
Matt Broaddus is the author of Deeper the Tropics (BUNNY, 2024) and Temporal Anomalies (Ricochet Editions, 2023). His poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, Annulet, and The Paris Review. He lives in Colorado and works at a public library.